travels were highly prized at the time, and the following are brief
extracts from them:

YORK, Upper Canada, Aug. 20 to 25, 1817.

I travelled with three gentlemen from New York as far as Fort
George, where they left me on their return by Montreal. We
crossed at Buffalo on the 9th instant, at which place we
arrived half an hour before the President; and although one of
our party (Mr. Gouverneur) was his nephew, we did not delay
our journey to have a view of his countenance, and came over
to Fort Erie, or, properly speaking, its remains. Seven miles
from the Fort, we stopped the next morning to breakfast at a
house where Isaac had lived six months, and the landlord told
me with tears: "He was a friend and a father to me. I was
close to him when he was shot;"--with these words, unable from
his feelings to add more, he walked away quickly up his
orchard.... On paying my respects to Mrs. Powell, the lady of
the present chief justice, and to Mrs. Claus, they were
greatly affected, and shed tears; and Mr. Scott, on whom I
called yesterday, was equally so. Every one here is most
kind--Isaac truly lived in their hearts: from one end of
Canada to the other, he is beloved to a degree you can
scarcely imagine--his memory will long live among them. "To
your brother, Sir, we are indebted for the preservation of
this province," is a sentiment that comes from the heart, and
is in the mouths of too many to be flattery. This is pleasing,
no doubt, to me, but it is a mournful pleasure, and recalls to
me the past. I dine at five with the gentlemen of this town,
and I see a splendid table laid out up stairs--the garrison is
invited. I found no way to avoid these marks of respect to
Isaac's memory. I assure you that it is truly unpleasant to me
to see so many persons putting themselves in some degree out
of their way to gratify me, as I think it, though I am aware
they do it to satisfy their own feelings. I should also
mention, that last Saturday I dined at Fort George, by
invitation of the gentlemen there and its environs; we were
_forty-nine_ in number, and it was the anniversary of the
capture of Detroit. I was invited, without their remembering
the day of the month--it was a curious coincidence. The
clergyman, who was of the party, made allusion during divine
service next morning to